


Red Legacy

by JackBivouac



Series: Curse of the Crimson Throne [5]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Bestiality, Bondage, Breeding, Devils, Dogs, F/F, F/M, Fantastic Racism, Forced Orgasm, Furry, Gang Rape, Ghost Sex, Impregnation, Knotting, Lizards, Loss of Virginity, Monsters, Multi, Other, Oviposition, Porn With Plot, Public Sex, Rape, Sacrifice, Sexual Slavery, Size Difference, Snuff, Squirting, Unconscious Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 12:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 14,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21015767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackBivouac/pseuds/JackBivouac
Summary: Oneshots from Curse of the Crimson Throne as an explicit campaign.All my dice rolls here, but theoretically if there were players, this wouldn't be non-con  but prearranged fantasy scenarios based on how they wanted to handle losses to the enemy or successful seduction attempts





	1. Family First

Grau and their sister slipped through the shadowed city streets of Korvosa. Step-sister, technically. The two were obviously of no blood relation. Ebrien took after her Varisian mother Telda with deep olive skin and dark brown hair and eyes. 

Grau, Varisian by their mother Zera and Kellid by their father back in Ustalav, leaned heavily toward the barbaric side. At six-foot-three, they stood a foot taller than Ebrien. Their skin was a lighter brown and their eyes a rich, vibrant green. They kept their thick auburn hair undercut, a sharp wave falling just past their chiseled cheek.

The reek of brine and the stink of week-dead fish presaged their arrival at the docks along the Jeggare River. The young siblings slowed. The old fishery was just up ahead.

An old wretch by name of Lamm took in orphans and put them to work there among the fish guts and slime. They stirred up a foul-smelling slurry that was resold as bait, fertilizer, or the stuffing of “dock-dumplings,” a local staple of the dockworkers.

At this hour of night, the front doors of the weathered fishery were tightly closed. A drooping signpost hung above. The sign it once displayed was long gone, leaving behind only a short length of rusted chain swaying gently in the chill, autumn breeze.

“Left or right?” asked Ebrien, keeping her voice hushed.

“Left,” said Grau, taking hold of one handaxe in their left hand.

It wasn’t as though they’d dropped by for a chat. Lamm’s Lambs trained in thievery when they weren’t being worked to the bone at the fishery. One of the light-fingered Lambs had pickpocketed Zera’s heirloom Harrow deck at the fishmarket this morning.

Grau made their way as stealthily as possible down the fishery’s leftside boardwalk, but the old, surf-slicked boards creaked under every step. The entire boardwalk, held together by barnacle smothered pilings, seemed ready to fall apart into the river at any second. Crrr-EAK.

“Shut up,” Grau muttered at the sagging, age-ed boards.

CRRR-ACK! Broken boards exploded upward. By the skin of Lady Luck herself, Grau leaped back from the splintery edge underfoot and windmilled their arms steady. A six-foot shark with jagged markings across its body snapped its jaws in the space the youth had just vacated.

“Fuck!” Grau hissed under their breath. They didn’t want to hurt an animal, but the unnatural way it continued to rip off board after board to close in on their legs suggested druidic magic at work.

They had one chance before this went under and ugly. Grau hefted a second axe into their right hand. As the shark chomped into the next board, they threw themself onto its back.

Grau’s axe’s bit hacked into the shark’s gills from either side. Human and beast plunged into the river with a single splash. The floundering, suffocating shark leaked a cloud of unseen red into the dark waters.

#*#*#*#*

Ebrien snuck down the fifteen-foot-wide loading dock on the fishery’s right. A flight of rickety stairs descended nearly to the river’s surface below while double doors by the dock’s ramp opened to the building’s interior after a quick jimmying.

The blast of fish reek and sweat stink through the crack between the doors punched tears into Ebrien’s eyes and snot into her eyes. She threw her hands over her nose and mouth to muffle her choking cough. A dog barked from somewhere within.

“Fuck!” she hissed into her hands. She’d have to move fast.

Ebrien ducked into the upper workfloor, now dimly lit by the lantern of a child-sized guard. She stayed low against the wall of an enormous reeking wooden trough reeking of half-rancid fish, seaweed, and brine. Filthy seawater and fish blood stained the floor all around it. 

As the little guard’s shadow neared, Ebrien poked her head out into view with a finger on her lips, banking on the smallest seed of good nature in the child’s heart. She squinted against the blinding glare of the lantern.

The guard stopped. Her eyes adjusted, taking in not one shape but four. Three children, armed with chum-rusted pitchforks stared at her in shock. The fourth was the lantern-bearer and a fully grown gnome. 

A thin-lipped smirk spread across the gnome’s face, her eyes flicking past the girl. Whack! Ebrien caught a glimpse of green and a hulking shape before a flail clobbered her in the back.

She hit the bloodstained floor face-first. Her half-orc attacker snickered and chortled behind her.

“Get the ropes!” snapped the gnome.

The children scattered. The half-orc, still chuckling, crouched down by her legs and jerked her pants down off her rounded ass.

"Really, Giggles? In front of the orphans?"

"They're orphans, who cares about 'em?"

The budding pickpockets returned with coils of rope on their filth-caked arms. They threw the coils at the adults' feet and scampered back into the darkness.

Before mobility returned to Ebrien's body, Giggles bent her limp arms behind her back, lashing them tight together from wrist to elbow. He spread her asscheeks, fingers digging into her soft flesh, and pushed the thick, green head of his burning dick into her tiny asshole.

Ebrien snorted a scream. Giggles, giggling, screwed the full length of his cock up her shaft, ripping her anal walls apart. He yowled and pounded her ass into the floorboards, knocking scream after snorted scream from her crushed lungs.

The gnome set down her lantern. She couldn't deny the funtimes happening right in front of her. She lifted Ebrien's head by a fistful of hair and pinched the girl's nose, forcing her mouth open and grunting from the half-orc's brutal ramming up her ass.

The gnome pushed her cock and balls into Ebrien's mouth, stuffing her face from cheek to cheek. The gnome's dick hit the back of her throat, sending the girl gagging and slobbering all over her balls.

She took the girl's head in both hands and fucked her face with a lusty moan. At Ebrien's other end, Giggles jackhammered his head right into her g-spot.

The girl's pinned body jerked and writhed between the half-orc, the gnome, and the floor, her booted toes knocking uncontrollably on the wood. She grunted like a worked horse, eyes rolling as her traitorous anus clamped vise-tight around her rapist's dick. Her cock-and-ball-stuffed mouth squeezed around the gnome's.

Cum burst into the bound girl's flesh from both ends. She whimpered and convulsed from clenched fingers and toes to the tip of her burning scalp. Gnome and half-orc pumped their shared cocksleeve full with every drop.

"Damn, Giggles," panted the gnome, holding the girl's head down onto her spurting dick. "We gotta get Lamm and Yargin in on this little slut, make a real cumdump out of her."

The climaxed half-orc only giggled in response.


	2. Fast Times at the Old Fishery

No sooner had Grau wrenched their axes out of the jigsaw's gills than the massive impact of some new beast slamming the dying shark sent him reeling through the weather. A gods-damned, five-hundred-pound alligator latched its jaws around the shark's gashed open till and spun the poor fucker into a deathroll.

A cursed bubbled out of Gray's mouth. They swam for the surface as fast as they could, breaking from the cold water into the colder air with a sharp gasp.

Shunk! A crossbow bolt whizzed through the water by their shoulder. Grau glared at the underpier over their chattering teeth.

Old Man Lamm stood on a wooden walkway floating on the river surface and winding along the inner wall of pilings that supported the building’s frame above. He fired off a second bolt, this one scratching Grau's ear as it passed.

"Stop! I'm coming up and I don't want to hurt you! There's an alligator in here!" And a shark.

"I know!" Lamm shouted back, loading a third bolt.

The old man was out for blood. Grau would make sure he got it. They shifted the grip on to the end of their axe's handle and chucked the weapon at Lamm.

The spinning axehead tore through Lamm's knee. The old man screamed, dropping his crossbow and pitching into the river with a shallow splash.

Grau made a break for the pier. 

Lamm broke the surface, spitting, splashing, and cursing. "Fucking help me, fool!"

Grau grit their teeth and pushed off from the walkway. They were many kinds of sinner but not a murderer. They swam up under the old man's shoulder. "Alright, I g…!"

The blade of a dagger plunged between their neck and collarbone. "Get 'em, Gobblegut!"

The alligator's teeth raked bloody gashes down their arm. Surging with adrenaline, Grau twisted faster than thought, yanking their arm from between the closing jaws and shoving Lamm at the teeth instead.

The frail old man was too shocked to swim or speak as his beloved gator snapped clean through his dagger-wielding arm. Grau kicked off the confused alligator and clambered up onto the walkway.

Neither Lamm nor gator surfaced. Grau rolled into their back with a groan. Cold and bloody, they needed a few moments to collect themself before getting back to this gods-forsaken fetch quest.

#*#*#*#*

Ebrien was stripped of all her clothes. As Giggles prepared more rope, the gnome shoved a filthy, wadded rag into her mouth for a gag. The half-orc bent her weakened legs and bound each one ankle to thigh in a humiliating frogtie. He coiled around her arms, over and under her luscious tits and pulled tied, lashing her arms even tighter against her body while binding her breasts.

The girl could feel the orphans’ stares at her utterly helpless, cum-leaking body from the darkness. Her face, neck, and breasts flushed with dark, burning shame. Hot tears escaped her rapidly blinking eyes as the snickering half-orc scooped her into his arms like a pet cat and carried her upstairs.

The gnome opened the door of the barking dog’s room, a combination bedroom and office. On one side was a desk heaped with slate boards covered in chalk scrawls and a rusted filing cabinet. On the other was a wooden bed with a lumpy mattress. At its foot sat a large strongbox, secured by a rusty lock.

A large black dog stood between the bed and the desk, growling and snarling at the human fuckmeat in Giggles’ arms. Yargin, a sour-faced man with bleach blond hair, threw the dog a literal bone and rose from the desk.

“What is this pretty thing?” he asked, tracing a dirty finger over the bulging curves of her bound tits to pinch her nipple.

"Caught her trying to sneak in," said the gnome.

"Varisians, they only know how to fuck and steal." Yargin gave her ass a resounding smack. "Well, toss her onto the bed already. The little cumslut must be starving for cock."

Ignoring her muffled cries of protest, the half-orc tossed Ebrien back-first onto the mattress with a hearty chortle. She squirmed in her bonds as Yargin unbuckled his pants, but the ropes offered no give to her wrists, arms, or chest.

"Awww, what an eager little whore. Don't fret, Daddy won't keep you waiting." Yargin looped his belt around her waist and cinched it corset-tight.

Ebrien choked onto her gagging wad. Yargin shoved his cock up her equally clenched pussy, ramming his wedged-in dick all the way to the wall of her crushed guts.

The girl bucked and writhed in breathless agony, head beating against the mattress and frogtied legs smacking against the man raping her between them. 

Yargin laughed and yanked her belted waist off the bed, arching her back and angling her hips to take him deeper into her flushing, swelling cunt. The head of his cock slammed her right in the helpless inner mouth of her womb. Her entire body convulsed.

Ebrien let out a strangled nasal squeal. Yargin's dick hammered burst after burst of spasming pleasure into her squeezing, squelching pussy. Her slick ran down the thighs trembling and gripping her rapist's hips. Her lewd, bound body shamefully begged him for more.

Yargin obliged. He grabbed his cumslut by the neck, choking her throat and pussy into a wet, clasping frenzy. Slamming her bucking hips into the bed, cum blasted from his dick right through the sucking mouth of her womb. Her slavish pussy guzzled down every last drop.

Yargin gave her tits and ass one last, hard grope and pulled out of his exhausted cumdump. She collapsed against the bed, breathing hard around her gag and covered in sweat.

"Let's keep her," said the gnome, spurting a second load from her erect cock onto Ebrien's face. "We could really use a sex slave around here."

"If she's to be a sex slave, she's got to be christened first." Yargin smiled darkly. "Giggles, get the dog."

The half-orc complied with a merry chortle.


	3. Never Sleep on the Job

Grau woke to the blinding glare of a lantern.

“Well, I guess we know what happened to Lamm,” said the gnome bearing it.

They tried to move. Their stiff, aching, and freezing body wasn’t simply unresponsive. A snickering half-orc had bound their arms straight down their back, lashed together at the wrists and elbows. Their legs, tied at the ankles, were bent back and tethered by a short, taut rope to their wrists. 

Their wasn’t a single inch of give to their hog-tie. Adding insult to injury, they’d been stripped completely, shamefully naked.

Giggles scooped the slowly-coming-around twunk into his mighty arms like a cat. He carried them back to Yargin’s office behind the gnome.

“So, the bad news, Lamm’s dead,” said the gnome. “On the other hand, his murderer’s a beefcake who’s decided to enter the wonderful world of sexual slavery.”

“Fghhh!” Grau roared, or attempted to before being muffled by the filthy, wadded gag in their mouth.

Ebrien’s naked body laid bound and frogtied on the office floor. A large black dog was knotted in her swollen anus, holding her rigidly spasming flesh to the floor by the heavy paws on her shoulders. Tears of hot shame burst from her eyes as they met Grau’s, but she couldn’t quite catch her gagged, pleasured whimper.

“Fuck!” Yargin slammed the hammer of his fist against the wall. “How’re we supposed to pay back the Arkonas with Lamm dead?”

The gnome’s eyes roved over Grau and Ebrien’s taut, eighteen-year-old bodies. “I think the answer to our problems just fell into our hands.”

“Nooo!” Giggles pouted and whined. “We just got our sex slaves.”

“Pfbbbt, we can get more. Just wait for the orphans to grow up,” said the gnome.

“At least let me break in the twunk first.”

“Fine,” said Yargin, “but I want this Arkona business over tonight. We’re under new management, ladies and gents. Our own.”

Giggles and the gnome whooped and cheered, the half-orc tossing Grau onto the mattress where their sister had just been defiled. On their back, the brutal bend of their back and legs in the hogtie thrust their hips into the air.

Giggles licked his lips and spread Grau’s thighs apart, baring their fear-clenched asshole. The gnome clambered onto the bed, salivating over their generous endowment. She licked and gobbled Grau’s cock into her tiny mouth like a massive cone of froyo.

With his fingers digging into the firm flesh of Grau’s asscheeks, Giggles pushed his giant green dick into the kid’s anus, tearing their virgin walls apart. 

Grau’s eyes bulged in agony. They jerked and screamed into their gag, but their wild bucking only drove their dick to the back of the gnome’s throat and Giggle’s cock deep to the x-mark of their g-spot.

The half-orc’s dick pistoned relentlessly into Grau’s clenched guts, nailing them again and again into their pleasure zone. Every ass-battering ram beat a bursting web of electric heat from Grau’s deepest cavity all the way up their brutally arched back to the tip of their scalp. 

They moaned helplessly into their gag, their tight, virgin anus squeezing Giggle’s cock in a deathgrip of forced pleasure. Seed burst from their dick into the wet shaft of the gnome’s throat.

At the same time, cum exploded from the half-orc’s cock into Grau’s spasming ass shaft. The new sex slave took every sperm-pumping thrust with a quiver and lewd, animal grunt.


	4. Meat's Back on the Menu

The Arkonas were one of Korvosa’s oldest noble families. Thanks to their strong ties and regular trade with their home country of Vudra, they’d become one of city’s wealthiest. Over the span of two centuries, they’d risen in power to become the de facto rulers of Old Korvosa, the large island of slums just north of the city proper.

The family’s open acceptance of all manner of vice had certainly influenced the growth of Old Korvosa. Only the Arkonas iron fist held it all together.

One of their most recent patsies was the twenty-five-year-old Verik Vancaskin. With little more going for him than a fit physique, piercing amber eyes, and a shock of wavy brown hair, the young man had gone from poverty to thievery and now criminal fronting in rapid succession.

The Arkonas to whom he was now indentured had set him up at All the World’s Meat on 22 Stirge Street with the Cow Hammer mercenaries. Verik handled the books and day-to-day butcher business. All he had to do was direct anyone asking about “the night’s special cuts” to the room in the back and be done with it.

It kept his conscious clean and the ale flowing, which was all he could ask for. To be perfectly honest, he’d never wanted to leave his father in Riddleport, but his mother wouldn’t stand for her boys growing up around “pirates, crimelords, and worse.” Yet the “good” lives of his mother’s chemically toxic clotheswashing and his brother’s backbreaking farming in some gods-forsaken frontier town just did not seem to be the answer.

Verik blinked over the marble-topped display table and waved the buzzing flies out of his eyes. That was definitely Old Man Lamm’s lantern-bearing gnome and chortling half-orc walking up the street. If they were here to settle Lamm’s debt, good, but the lumps under the blanket-covered cart Giggles was hauling were less money bag and more body-shaped.

Verik walked out the door under the hanging sign of a fat, smiling cow. He waved his arms in front of him and hissed at them from across the empty street.

“Woah, no. Hold it right there. You want a clean up, you gotta call ahead like everybody else.”

"C'mon, Vancaskin, you're doing us dirty," said the gnome, crossing the street. "We know the rules. We're here to settle for Lamm, and I believe accounting's got a drop-in policy."

Giggles giggled at the gnome's gods-damned, technically accurate rules-lawyering.

"Fine," Verik grumbled, "but the cart can't come in here."

"I got it." The half-orc snickered and hefted a body-shaped lump under either arm.

Verik plodded after them to the backroom himself to perform the transaction. The Cow Hammers, two humans, a half-elf, and a half-orc, sat around sturdy wooden table drinking and playing cards. The mercs set down their hands and cups at the arrival but remained seated.

"Whatcha got there, Big Lambs?"

The half-orc dumped his load right onto their table. The naked bodies of a hog-tied Kellid and a frogtied Varisian pungent with the musk of sex and cum knocked over the cups, sending all the mercs jumping to their feet.

"What the fuck is this?!" Verik screamed. "Lamm doesn't traffic sex slaves!"

"Lamm's dead," Giggles chortled.

"No need for a bitch fit," said a merc, all of whom were reaching for their belts. "The Arkonas trade flesh all the time."

Verik pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a migraine coming on. "Fine. Fine. Fine, fine, fine. But, collateral, we need collateral until the Arkonas get a price check on the...flesh."

"Who's rules-lawyering now?" muttered the gnome, rifling through her pockets for the Little Lambs' latest pickings. She handed over a gold and garnet brooch, an amulet that despite its broken clasp was of even more expensive workmanship, and a ratty, near-worthless deck of Harrow cards.

"Keep the cards," said Verik, locking the jewelry into a small strongbox.

"Nah, we'll take 'em," said a Cow Hammer, flipping the girl on her back for easier access to her ass.

The accountant grumbled and snatched up the worthless fucking cards, too. He slammed them on top of the strongbox and stormed out to the first slaps of flesh upon trafficked flesh.

The Cow Hammers were merciless. The half-orc and half-elf went first, taking Grau beside their sister on the tabletop. The half-elf shoved his cock into Grau's anus, each gut-churning slam bumping their helplessly bound body into Ebrien's.

The potent mix of Grau's rage and shame pumped their raped body full of some perverse potion that stiffened their cock and tightened their anus around the half-elf's pistoning dick. They grunted into their sodden, grimy gag, but the sound was more of a bitch's groan.

The walls of their anus convulsed and clenched on their rapist's cock. As their ass wrang the seed right from the half-elf's dick, cum spewed from their own head between their stomach, Ebrien's, and the table. The burning shame of it all broke the well-used cumdump into tears of deepest despair.


	5. Red Dawn

When the Cow Hammers had finished marking their new sex slaves with their cum, slick, and piss, they dumped the siblings still in their ropes into the backroom's cleaning closet. The siblings were beyond exhausted, but they wormed their way back-to-back in the darkness. Their numbed fingers fumbled with the other's knots, but they lacked both the strength and mobility to make any headway.

The siblings blinked hard as their eyes welled with tears of futility. They had lost everything in a single night. Their mothers must think them dead. Worst of all, they'd be better off if they had died.

Then the light of a single candle slipped through the cracks of the doorway. The door opened to Verik Vancaskin with a finger to his lips and the burlap sack of their gear from the cart. He gingerly set down the sack and cut through their bonds with a dagger.

For the first time tonight, Grau was thankful for their gag. It gave them something to bite down on as their limp, freed limbs exploded into pins and needles.

Their rescuer then stepped back out of the closet and shut the door soundlessly behind him. That was fine with Grau. He'd already done more than enough.

#*#*#*#*

Verik broke into a full-blown sprint the second he was out of All the World's Meat. He didn't stop until he'd reached the docks on the seaward side of the city. Yes, he might've made his mother proud for a Korvosan second, but to stay in Korvosa after ripping off the fucking Arkonas was akin to suicide.

“You alright there, boy?” asked the harbormistress.

Verik pushed up onto his knees. Still breathing too hard to speak, he flashed the middle-aged woman what was hopefully still a winning smile. He finally came up for business a few moments later.

“Which one of these ships is sailing the furthest from Korvosa?” he panted.

She pointed to a Sargavan merchant vessel, the ‘Jenivere.’ “Captain Kovak’s making their yearly run down the west coasts of Avistan and Garund. They last stop’s Eleder, just south of the equator.”

“Perfect.”

“No offense kid, but you got the cash for that?”

Verik held up a hefty back of coin in response. He hadn’t dared the strongbox in the same room as the sleeping mercs, but everything from the storefront had been fair game. Sometimes, it paid to be the bookboy.

#*#*#*#*

Grau opened the door just wide enough to peer through. By the low, orange glow of the nearest streetlamp, they could just make out the shapes of the four mercenaries sleeping on bedrolls and the strongbox on the far wall’s shelf. Their mother’s Harrow deck sat atop the locked box.

Grau snuck out from closet followed by Ebrien. They were naked from the waist down but Grau had their breastplate and Ebrien her chain shirt. Better yet, they were armed.

The siblings tiptoed around their sleeping rapists over to the far wall. Grau grabbed the deck and headed for the door. They looked back, their sister by the strongbox with her thieves’ tools in hand.

They shook their head. They wanted recompense from the Cow Hammers just as much as she did, but that box and its lock were metal. If they woke the mercs...if the mercs overpowered them… 

Clunk. She opened the lock. The Cow Hammers stirred.

“Hey!”

“Run!” said Ebrien, snatching the jewelry and making a break for the door.

The half-orc’s hand seized around her ankle. She fell to her knees with a cry, nails scratching the floorboards as the merc dragged her back.

The humans and the half-elf grabbed their crossbows. They rolled up onto one knee, loading their bolts.

“Fuck!” shouted Grau. They threw their axe at the half-orc. Its head shunked deep between their neck and shoulder.

The merc shrieked in pain but didn’t die. Neither did they let go of Ebrien.

“Get off me you raping piece of shit!” Their sister shoved her rapier back, its needlepoint tip punching from one end of the half-orc’s throat to the other. The Cow Hammer slumped dead with a bloody gurgle.

“Kill the murdering cumslut!”

Bolts flew through the darkness, knocking holes into the drywall. The Cow Hammers were already tossing their crossbows aside as they rose to their feet, drawing longswords.

“Desna damn it, Ebrien!” But family always came first.

Grau grabbed two new handaxes from the holsters on their back. They rushed swinging into the fray.

#*#*#*#*

Grau and Ebrien reached their apartment just as dawn peeked red over the city skyline. The siblings were utterly spent but no longer half-naked and covered in blood. They’d nabbed clothes off laundry lines here and there, adding theft to murder and breaking and entering. In their defense, they’d spared the early risers the sight of public indecency.

They were welcomed home by the fragrant haze of flowers and strong spice. The haze came from several sticks of incense smouldering at all hours from the walls’ butterfly-winged burners. Brightly colored rugs covered the floor, easy given the cramped room dimensions.

The walls were draped with brocaded tapestries, one depicting a black-skulled beast juggling humanoid hearts, another with a pair of angels dancing atop a snow-blasted mounted. A third showed a tall hooded figure shrouded in mist, a flaming sword grasped in their skeletal hand.

Much to their surprise, they found both their mothers at the red-draped breakfast table. Telda stood over Zera, rubbing her back solemnly as Grau’s mother poured over a letter. 

“Is everything ok? Mom, we got your cards back.”

The two mothers raised their heads slowly, expressions grave.

“Grau, Endra wrote me. Your father’s dead,” said Zera, her voice barely above a whisper.

“The funeral’s in two weeks,” said Telda. “In Ustalav.”

“And...only you’ve been invited.”


	6. Death and Chaos

Two weeks later… 

On the other side of the Mindspin Mountains, arid plateau descended into lightly wooded plains and bleak moors of Canterwall County. Numerous small towns dotted the fog-shrouded hills. At first glance, these towns might all seem kindred spirits, cozy collections of quaint buildings surrounded by farmland, their skylines decorated by the steeples of Pharasmin churches and the steep rooflines of colorful taverns. 

Yet in Ustalav, every town and village was unique by virtue of the secret they harbored. Such was the case in idyllic Ravengro, a town built originally to support the once notorious prison of Harrowstone. The penitentiary was now but a ruin, its guards and prisoners alike consumed in an uprising’s flames long decades ago.

From the top of a hill covered in long yellow grass swaying beneath Ustalav’s perpetually overcast sky, Grau spotted a somber procession along the Dreamwake below, the gravel pathway that wound through the Pharasmin cemetery.

Four grim-faced pallbearers carried a fine, wooden coffin. They were led by an auburn-haired woman in her late twenties. Though half-Varisian, half-Kellid, Endra Lomorr took almost entirely after her Kellid father, tall, strong, and handsome.

Their Kellid father, Petros Lomorr. The man now dead within the coffin.

Grau trodded slowly down the hill, angling their path to catch the funeral procession on the path around the corner. They picked up the pace upon spotting a group of a dozen surly locals blocking said path. Endra and their leader, an elderly but wiry tough, exchanged heated words.

“...we won’t have a necromancer buried with our kin! Now I suggest you move out while you still can,” growled the old man.

“Necromancy!?” Endra practically screamed in her posh, city-educated accent. “Are you all really that ignorant?”

The open insult was the last straw. Six of the younger, most fiery members of the mob shoved Endra aside on route to the pallbearers with fists and sticks.

Grau, sprinting the final stretch, threw themself into a leap at the path. They skidded across the gravel to a stop between the mob and the coffin and rose to their full height amid the parting clouds of dust. The six youths fell an uncertain step back.

"You kids get back here this minute," snapped the gruff old man. "We came to warn, not to knock heads!"

To Grau's relief, the six young firestarts listened to their elder. They stalked back to his fold, though not before glaring daggers at the newcomer. The old man shook his head at the Lomorr siblings.

"Folks are upset about this as it is. Make any more trouble, Lomorrs, and you just may find yourselves run outta town."

"I hope you're pleased with yourself for missing the funeral but showing up just in time for that local stupidity," Endra snapped at her sibling before the mob was even out of earshot.

"I'm sorry, Endra," said Grau, ignoring the departing group's half-offended, half maliciously pleased looks. "I got here as fast as I could, but it's a long way from Korvosa."

"Yes, I suppose that was the attraction when our bitch mother ran off and kidnapped you. Well, come along. Cleric Grimburrow's waiting."

"Right, good to see you, too." In that moment, Grau knew with sinking certainty that this was gonna be a looong visit.

#*#*#*#*

Despite its broken clasp, it was the amulet that really got the pawnshop proprietor gasping behind their loupe. The circular gold amulet depicted a pseudodragon and an imp coiled around each other in a yin-yang pattern. An amethyst formed the pseudodragon's eye while an emerald formed the imp's.

It was undeniably beautiful and worth a pretty penny, perhaps even more than the garnet brooch, but it had taken Ebrien until now to work up the nerve to handle the jewelry again. The memories of her and her sibling's brush with sex slavery were still a raw wound in her mind. She had, in fact, decided to sell them not for more spare coin but to get them out of the house where they'd sat like a beating heart in her dresser drawer.

"I-I can't take this one," said the jewelry, nearly dropping the amulet to the floor in their haste to return it. "I'd actually advise putting that back wherever you got it from."

"It's cursed?" That'd certainly explain the apprehension under her skin for the past two weeks.

"Worse, it's property of the Queen."

Ebrien froze, the blood turned to ice in her veins. Queen Ileosa nee Arvanxi, noblewoman of the neighboring Infernal Empire of Cheliax, had married King Eodred II only this spring. Already, she'd been the reputed root of every scandal to rock Korvosa since.

Would such finger-pointing lend her greater empathy toward the one who'd accidentally come into possession of her amulet? Or would it make her vindictive against her Korvosan subjects who vilified her so?

Clang! Clang! Clang! The ring of literal alarum bells broke Ebrien and the pawner from their tense reverie. The girl instinctively pocketed the amulet along with her coin and ran out into the street.

Korvosa was in flames, smoke rising on the horizon. A cacophony of screams, steel upon steel, and a detonation of arcane power joined the clangor of the bells.

A massive shadow fell over Ebrien. She ducked. 

A wing of griffon riders swooped overhead, angling toward Castle Korvosa at a breakneck pace. One mount, badly wounded, rained red upon Ebrien and the entire street before crashing headlong into a statue, taking its rider and itself to a bone-crunching demise. The other riders had not a moment to spare their fallen ally. 

The bardically enhanced voice of a herald cut through the din: “The king is dead! Long live the queen!”

They were immediately shouted down by cries of “Hang the queen!” and “The usurper whore must die!” 

Ebrien had no time to process the chaos around her. Nor the chaos that descended upon her in the form of four one-foot, red-skinned imps flapping around on fiendish wings. She screamed as they grabbed a limb each and flew her to the shingle rooftops.

Four stingers at the end of their scorpion-like tails plunged into the crooks of her elbows and the backs of her knees. In seconds, the strength drained from her flailing limbs. Ebrien gurgled in protest, her tongue asleep in her mouth, as the imps stripped the clothes from her body.

They used her own shirtsleeves to bind her wrists to the publicly visible weathervane overhead. The two imps nearest the weathervane immediately flew down to perch on her mouth. Their taloned feet dug into her cheeks as they braced against each other’s shoulders and shoved their finger-length dicks and large-marble balls into her mouth.

The other pushed her limp, naked thighs apart. One thrust into her asshole and the other into her pussy. Despite the shortness of their cocks, the two forced their balls into her twitching holes as well, plugging her pussy and anus like a dog’s knot.

The girl’s envenomed body could hide none of her instinctive, animal responses as the imps’ wedged cocks and balls rent her pussy and anal walls in twain. Her weakened hips bucked pathetically, heels scuffing the shingles as her knees shook and spasmed. A dark flush of shame and primal heat spread from her chest to the tips of her hardened brown nipples and up to her cheeks.

A small crowd gathered below, some shouting, jeering, and others cheering as the imps pounded Ebrien’s throat, pussy, and anus into the rooftop. Her fingers flexed and grasped over her bound wrists. Wet, choked squeals emitted from her nose as the imps’ cocks and balls beat harder, faster into her rawed, pulsing holes.

Her shafts clenched around her bright red rapists’ dicks and balls. The girl’s head dropped back against the roof. She grunted like a mounted cow, her back arching between the impish bodies pinning her head and hips to the shingles.

In view of all the onlookers on the street below, a stream of clear, sex-musked liquid arced from her cunt onto the imps fucking her between her trembling thighs. Seed burst into her mouth, pussy, and anus. Ebrien moaned and choked on the cock-churned cum in her throat, tears of shame running down her cheeks.

There was a clarion shriek from the skies above. Down swooped a flock of six imp-sized, blue-scaled pseudodragons. Tooth and claw raked bloody gouges through the raping imps.

The crowd let up a unanimous cheer as the imps pulled out screaming. They flew off with the rescuing pseudodragons on their tail. 

Ebrien, still softly crying, worked her wrists free. She hid herself from the voyeurs below as best as she could and gathered her clothes.


	7. Southern Heat

The bodies of Verik and other passengers aboard the Jenivere were strewn across a narrow, white-sand beach. To the south, a wall of green rose in the form of a dense jungle filled with a cacophony of life, none of which pierced the ears of the dead or unconscious.

To the north, the waters of the sea surged and churned between the beach and a line of razor-sharp rocks. East and west, ragged arms of jagged rocks reached out to embrace a wave-tossed cove.

It was there against a jagged cliff that the Jenivere moored, listing to port and partially submerged. Her hull was a gaping ruin. Only a ridge of sharp rock had prevented the wreck from sinking entirely into the sea, but even a casual glance was enough to confirm that she would never sail again.

During last night’s storm along Garund’s western coast, the Jenivere had wrecked upon Smuggler’s Shiv. The island took its name not only for the shiv-like shape of its coastline, but also for its uncanny habit of wrecking ships that drew too near, mostly smugglers attempting to avoid detection by Sargava’s navy. 

Sailors’ tales held that its shores were haunted by the sailors who’d died on its jagged rocks and reefs. Even history concurred that every attempt to establish a colony on the remote island had failed. The last had been a mere seventy years ago, before Sargava had driven out its Chelish imperialists and colonizers.

The Chelish village of Thrunefang had lost all contact with the outside world. At the same time, Sargava secured its independence from the Infernal Empire. The retreating Chelish navy no longer knew or cared what became of the island while the newly founded Sargavan government had to file its official inquiry behind a seventy-year-long bureaucratic backlog.

It mattered not to the tribe of Thrunefang. Six of their number, the daily hunting party, walked out from the wall of green to scour the beach at dawn. They were deeply tanned, their nearly nude bodies decorated with pentagram-shaped scars and their teeth filed to fang-like points.

They spread out to crouch by the washed-up bodies and sort the living from the dead. There were six still breathing, though spared by a force dark or merciful none could say.

The Thrunefang woman beside Verik laughed in delight. Long had she desired a child, but all Thrunefangs were forbidden from breeding within the tribe. She drew a flint dagger and slashed through his clothes, running a hand down the lithe lines of his naked body still wet with seawater.

She rolled him over onto his back. With ropes of braided hemp, she bound his arms together at the elbows and wrists. His legs, she tied at the knees and ankles, trussing her seed-donor like a worm.

The Thrunefang flipped him back up to brush the sandy grit from his cock. She took his dick into her mouth, licking, nibbling, and sucking until he stood erect. She lapped up his first pearl of pre-cum with a wicked grin.

The tribeswoman pulled her loincloth aside and lowered herself over him in a straddle. She gasped as his burning head pushed through her flushed pussy lips. Wedging him inside with an urgent whine, she rocked and bucked on his hips, grinding her dripping cunt against his helpless body.

It was not the vigored heat in his loins that reached Verik's consciousness but a wash of nausea, an aftereffect of being drugged with taggit oil. He opened his eyes to bouncing skies, fevered moans, and a clutch so tight around his cock that he was forced to moan as well.

The Thrunefang dug her fingers into his taut hips, bracing herself as her back snapped arched and rigid. She howled as both mount and bitch, her urgent pussy wringing the cock impaling her for seed.

Verik gasped and jerked in his bindings, utterly helpless to the throb of his entrapped dick. Cum burst from his head right into his rapist's fertile womb. She stayed upon him, riding him until her starving cunt had guzzled up every last drop.


	8. Friends and Allies

After the funeral, Grau followed Endra back to the Lomorr Place, a modest home with bookshelves crowding every room. Their sister poured herself a tall and very stiff drink without offering their little sibling one as they awaited Councillor Hart for the reading of the will.

The elderly woman arrived precisely at the allotted time with a young Varisian man between the siblings' ages on her heels. He smiled and nodded politely.

"Endra, I’m sorry for y…"

"That's Miss Lomorr to you."

"Miss Lomorr, sorry, sorry for your loss.” He turned to Grau. “Hello, I'm Adris, a student of Professor Lomorr’s. I don't believe we've met."

"Grau, well met. Sort of. My father had many students. You must've been close, huh?"

"He was my mentor and thesis advisor," Adris explained, “and a great man.”

Endra also explained by drilling her tongue into the side of her mouth, but as she was already halfway through a third tall drink, Grau took her miming with a grain of salt.

"Comport yourself, Miss Lomorr," scolded the councillor. "This is the day of your father's funeral, for Pharasma's sake."

"That is precisely why I shan't," she slurred.

Grau could only offer the councillor an apologetic smile and shrug. She was, thankfully, all business and proceeded to produce a scroll case under her disapproving frown. After revealing their father’s unbroken personal seal, she broke the wax and opened the case.

A small iron key fell from the tube, clattering noisily onto the table. Undaunted by fall and noise, the councillor began the reading.

“I, Petros Lomorr, being of sound mind, do hereby commit to this parchment my last will and testament. Let it be known with the exception of the specific details below, I leave my home and personal belongings entire to my elder child Endra. Use them or sell them as you see fit, my child.

“To my younger child Grau and my protege Adris Andivi, I hate to impose upon you, but there are few capable of appreciating the significance of what it is I have to ask. As you well know, I have devoted many of my studies to all manner of evil, that I might know the enemy and inform those better positioned to stand against it.

“Over the course of my lifetime, I have acquired a significant collection of valuable but dangerous tomes, any one of which in the wrong circumstances could have led to an awkward legal situation. While the majority of these tomes remain safe under lock and key at the Lepidstadt University, a few I have borrowed remain in a trunk in my Ravengro home. 

“I am entrusting my chest of tomes to you, Grau and Adris, posthumously. I ask that you please deliver the collection to my colleagues at the University of Lepidstadt, who will put them to good use for the betterment of the cause.

“Yet before you leave for Lepidstadt, there is the matter of a final favor. Please delay your journey and stay here in Ravengro to ensure that Endra is safe and sound while she sets my unfinished affairs in order. For this you would have my eternal gratitude.

“From my savings, I have also willed to each of you a sum of one hundred platinum coins. For safekeeping, I have left these funds with Breth Darami, one of my most trusted friends in Lepidstadt. She has been instructed to issue this payment upon the safe delivery of the borrowed tomes.

“Here ends the last will and testament of Petros Lomorr.” Councillor Hart rose from her seat.

“Wait!” said Grau. “I mean, pardon me, Councillor, but where’s the chest?”

“Ask your sister. Now, good day to you all.”

Grau looked from the departing councillor to their shit-faced sister snoring stridently from the sofa. Their father’s protege rose from his seat as well. He picked the iron key off the study room desk.

“I believe the professor kept them in the library,” said Adris.

The two walked in awkward silence and familiarity from the study to the library. After a few minutes of heated, neck-prickling search, the two spotted a small oak and iron chest unintentionally concealed by a heap of fallen scrolls.

Adris held out the key. “Would you like to do the honors?”

“Uh, that’s okay.”

The young man shrugged and unlocked the chest with a soft clunk. There were several old tomes within and one relatively new. This newest was a journal and bore the phrase ‘Read me now!’ scratched into its leather binding.

Grau opened the journal with a growing apprehension. Adris read along over their shoulder.

“...Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers. I see that now. Undeath is their fountain of youth. Uncovering their motivation does not place me at ease as I thought it might. Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous…

“...as I had feared. The Way is interested in something here in Ravengro. But what?

“...I am now convinced their goal is connected to Harrowstone. In retrospect, I suppose it all makes sense, the stories they tell about the ruins in town are certainly chilling  
enough. It may be time to investigate the ruins, but with everyone in town already being so worked up about them, I’d rather not let the others know about my curiosity…

“...someone held in Harrowstone. But who, specifically, is the Way after? I need a list of everyone who died the night of the fire. Everyone. The Temple of Pharasma must have… 

“...evening I’ll return to the prison. It is imperative the Way does not finish. My caution has already cost me too much time. If my theory is right, the entire town could be at risk. I don’t have time to update my will, so I’ll leave this in the chest where it’ll be sure to be found should the worst come to pass.”

Thus ended the final entry in the journal. Grau shared a glance and frown of consternation with Adris. The Varisian sat back on his heels, steepling his fingers before him.

“Do you want to say it or shall I?”

“It sounds like Dad was murdered by this Whispering Way gang when he went to check out the prison.”

“They sound like more of a cult than a gang, but yes, I concur.”

“Endra didn’t mention anything about a murder.”

“A group of necromancers could easily hide any evidence of foul play on a dead body.”

“Wait, if they found Dad, killed him, then he didn’t succeed. Whatever threat he found at Harrowstone…”

“Oh my gods, you’re right! This entire town could be still be in danger.”

“We have to check out the prison.”

“I...concur.”

#*#*#*#*

Inisar, a Chelish-pale immigrant to Korvosa not unlike Queen Ileosa herself, was minding their own business, waiting for a group of Hellknights to run off a group of looters so they could swoop in unimpeded when a rumble issued from the cobblestones beneath their feet.

Inisar’s metallic gold eyes widened in fear. They took off at full speed, black locks whipping behind them. 

The city street cracked apart, long fissures ripping open across the bricks. The road burst upward, casting chunks of rock into the air and raining bricks everywhere. 

The Chelish youth grunted, knocked to the ground by shrapnel. Their head spun, blood running from their slashed scalp.

The stench of sewer filth and garbage belched forth from the fissure. Three long, thick tentacles, two topped with barbs and one with eyes, snaked up from the sewers below. They were followed by a twelve-foot, half-a-ton otyugh, a three-legged aberration mostly maw and stomach.

The city used the bottom-feeding otyughs to keep the sewers under Old Korvosa clean and flowing. This one had obviously escaped its pit and found its way into the city’s main sewers. Drawn by the noise and chaos, it had risen to the surface.

Unfortunately, Inisar was the “innocent” closest to the beast. The creature seized the Chelaxian in one barbed tentacle, its thick, heavy coils constricting their body from shoulders to waist. Their arms were pinned painfully, uselessly to their sides.

Its other barbed tentacle yanked the pants off Inisar’s legs. It coiled around the bared flesh of one leg from ankle to thigh. Ignoring their screams and pathetic, one-legged kicks, the otyugh pulled Inisar’s bound leg out to the side like a pissing dog’s. It shoved the squirming youth’s anus down onto its giant, scaly green cock.

Inisar sputtered and grunted, golden eyes bulging in their skull as the head of the otyugh’s dick slammed into their clenched guts. The beast rapidly dragged their gasping, twitching flesh up and down the full length of their giant cock, splitting their anal walls apart. Their head bobbed and drooled as the otyugh rubbed a volcanic heat in their raped asshole like the inside of a tight, rawed sock.

It was too much for any humanoid. Searing white heat lanced from Inisar’s overstuffed anus out to the tips of their curling toes and up to the crown of their uncontrollably bobbing head. 

The otyugh’s cock bashed into their guts again and again, every lung-emptying pound sending their body into convulsions. Their slutty dumbass of an anal shaft clenched even harder around the giant dick pounding Inisar into a pulp of exploding nerves.

The otyugh howled, goops of cum exploding into their ass. Inisar’s belly swelled as though pregnant from the sheer mass of the monster’s stinking seed.

Metal whistled through the air. A dagger, thrown from the shadows of a fire escape, shunked into the main eye on the otyugh’s tentacle of eyeballs.

The creature shrieked, flinging Inisar to the ruined street to ready its tentacles for battle. But the Varisian girl who’d saved them had already retreated out of sight. In the otyugh’s enraged confusion, Inisar gathered up their battered body and crawled away to an alley escape.


	9. There Will Be Blood

Grau and Adris were on route to Harrowstone Prison when they crossed paths with a group of five dirt-faced kids playing skipping rope on the side of the road. They sang in Varisian to keep in time with the rope.

“Put her body on the bed.  
Take a knife and lop her head.  
Watch the blood come out the pipe.  
Feeds the stirge, so nice and ripe.  
Drops of red so sparkly bright.  
Splatters spell her name just right.  
With a hammer killed his wife.  
Now he wants to claim your life.  
Tricksy father tells a lie.  
Listen close or you will die.”

The song was so morbidly disturbing that it stopped Grau in their tracks. “What are you kids singing? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

The kids immediately stopped playing. They stood quietly, nervously, as though they’d been warned well away from talking to strangers.

“You’re not in trouble,” added Adris.

The kids ran off as though they were, however. The strangeness of it all gave Grau a roil of foreboding in their gut that grew stronger as they approached.

Harrowstone was located on a barren hill south of the town. The stark, sagging roof of its central structure was visible through a large gap in the surrounding wall. The two amateur investigators followed a partially overgrown track winding around the base of the hill up to the prison itself.

The two-story stone building loomed in the center of the prison  
grounds. Ivy and moss clung to the walls and wooden shingles of the roof above were often missing entirely, exposing the wooden rafters to the overcast sky. 

Here and there, stone gargoyles leered from the eaves. They’d once functioned as drainspouts and decorations but now seeming to serve a more ominous role of sentinels. Many of these stone decorations had crumbled away, lying in ruined piles on the soggy ground below. 

The windows in the building’s facade were narrow and blocked by rusted iron bars. The prison’s wooden front doors, both of which hung askew, revealed dark glimpses of chambers within.

Adris’ hand suddenly clutched Grau’s shoulder. He pointed down at the prison’s foundation. The ivy and grass had been cleared along the edge where the foundation met the ground. A series of sinuous runes had been etched into the stone and smeared with blood. They seemed to wrap around the entire building.

Written in Varisian, Grau could read what they could only assume were magical incantations. The name Lyv Hawkran was written repeatedly amongst the incantations.

“You studied with my dad. Do you know what any of this means?”

Adris frowned and shook his head. “They were a part of some larger ritual, something involving abjuration and necromancy.”

That sounded bad, the kind of bad that Dad had likely been investigating himself before he died. Before he was murdered, anyway. 

“Let’s get to the bottom of this,” said Grau, “before we lose the light.”

#*#*#*#*

The Thrunefang scavengers bound all the survivors on the beach, Verik and five others, with their arms behind their backs and a short, hobbling cord between their ankles. They kept the survivors in line by a long cord of hemp rope to which they leashed their necks.

The tribesfolk marched the line of captive breeding stock through the jungle for a long, mosquito-infested hour. The vibrant, buzzing greenery finally opened to a small clearing under the shadow of a stone lighthouse. The Thrunefang camp consisted of several large wooden huts with palm-frond roofs arranged around a crackling firepit.

The six more Thrunefangs rose from their smoking breakfast wrapped in banana leaves and crowded excitedly around the prisons. Every inch of Verik’s flesh was pinched, prodded, and groped. He was helpless to do anything but hiss and stumble forward at the continued tug on the hemp lead.

The captives were taken to a muddy yard fenced in by a bamboo and driftwood fence but open to the sky. There were just enough tall stakes driven deep into the ground for the six of them to be retied with their hands behind and the hard, rough wood of the stake against their backs.

The crowding Thrunefangs suddenly fell still and silent. They made way for a gray and hunched old woman with a dark-furred monkey on her shoulder and a tall, strapping fellow with a wild mane of red hair and wickedly glinting scimitar at their side. They could only be the village elder and the village chieftain.

The chieftain walked down the line of captives bound to the stakes. When they spoke, Verik was startled to recognize words of sibilant Infernal.

“A good haul.” They spread their arms wide, a shark-like grin opening within their beard. “Fill these wombs! Fill your wombs! Tonight, we feast!”

“And give thanks for this bountiful harvest of flesh,” croaked the elder. Her monkey chattered in agreement.

“Fuck and thanks!” screamed the Thrunefangs. They rushed forward onto the helpless breeding stock.

Verik screamed in animal panic, straining in his coarse, hemp ropes. Two of the villagers came for him. One dropped to her knees, sucking his cock. The other rubbed their cock against the back of her head.

Verik’s dick stiffened in primal response despite his terror. The young woman stood, grabbing his shoulders. The other villager hefted her legs off the ground under the knees. They shoved her tight cunt down onto the breeding stud’s cock just as they speared her asshole with their own dick.

The doubly penetrated woman shrieked in pleasure, her lewd, curved body bucking between the flesh sandwiching her. Verik whimpered pathetically as her pussy walls clenched ravenously on his dick.

The villager impaling her anus kept the young woman bouncing on their dicks so two could stuff her guts harder, faster, and deeper. Verik’s could feel the other’s cock rubbing through her wall against his as they pounded that wet, fertile flesh between them. He swallowed hard, sweat breaking over his bound, raped body.

The woman screamed out a moan, tits pressing against Verik’s chest as her back arched in shameless pleasure. The villager in her ass grunted, Verik gasping helplessly. Their cocks gushed hot seed up the savage squeeze of her ass and pussy.

Verik sobbed but there was no chance of stopping her. The villager’s pussy milked his dick down to the last, sticky drop. When his rapists were done, they simply made room for the next starving womb to drain him dry.


	10. The Haunted Holding Room

Grau found themself in Harrowstone’s holding room were old wooden benches laid in ruins along the walls. As they picked their way over rusted chains and bits of rotten rope, a faint sound echoed over the scuff of his boots on the stone. It was...a sobbing and the iron rattle of chains.

They froze halfway across the room. The rattling increased in volume. This was because behind them, the sets of manacle chains rose up, animate, off the floor.

Grau jumped at the seize of cold iron on their wrists and ankles. They were yanked into the air with a yelp. The chains pulled their arms straight over their head and spread their legs in a V under them.

“Fuck! Adris! Adris!”

Two shadows rippled across the floor. Two ectoplasmic spirits rose up, dark and dripping shadow and malice. Real fucking-ass ghosts. Grau screamed.

The spirits levitated off the holding room floor. They flew at the shrieking Kellid struggling in the haunted chains. The first wrapped their legs around Grau’s head, shoving a wet, jello-y ectoplasmic pussy into their mouth.

The second grabbed Grau’s pants and yanked them down their spread legs. He dug his cold, slimey fingers into their asscheeks, spreading them wide, and thrust his wet, clammy dick up their asshole.

Grau screamed into the ectoplasmic cunt in their mouth, not that the spirits gave a damn about any suffering but their own. The ghost in their ass tore up their anus, churning their anal walls into a raw, squeezing pulp around his ectoplasmic cock. 

The ghost, even more brutal and accurate in death than he was in life, plowed his new prison bitch right in the g-spot. Grau’s screams turned to huffed gasps and grunts as heat exploded up their crotch at every pinpointed slam in his anus. Unable to tamp down their convulsing pleasure, their cock stiffened of its own volition.

With a pathetic whine, Grau shuddered uncontrollable, their anus seizing iron-tight around the spirit’s raping dick. Ectoplasmic seed burst up their spasming anal shaft.

Grau’s head lolled, toes curling and fingers grasping the air. Cum exploded from their own dick, splattering onto their belly. 

Just like that, the spirits vanished. The manacles unlocked. Grau fell to the floor onto their stomach. They crawled on shaking hands and knees, cum dripping from their cock and ectoplasmic jizz oozing from their asshole.

“A-Adris…”

They never should’ve split up.


	11. Prison Proves a Ghastly Place

Adris, having gone upstairs, found himself in what appeared to be an infirmary. Several moldy cots laid strewn around the room while doors to smaller, more private sleeping cells hung askew from the wall. Nothing seemed particularly amiss, until the university student caught the muffled sound of either an animal or a small child coming from a mound of bedding on the floor.

He approached cautiously. There was definitely a shape struggling in the mound, in one item in particular. Its thrashing revealed a strong leather straitjacket.

“Hello? Do you need hel…!”

The straitjacket flew up, open, and empty into unholy life. It cut Adris’ question off into a yelp of surprise. Smack! And threw him to the floor.

“Help! Grau! Help!” Little did he know that his companion was suffering similar attack by the suffering spirits of the prison. 

The leather straitjacket seized tight, heavy, and closed around him. His heavily sleeved hands and arms were forced across his chest like the arms of a mummy, the excess fabric belting to the secure straps in the back. Adris’ bootheels helpless kicked against the infirmary floor, his body unable to right itself with the haunting spirits shoving his leather-bound torso flat.

A freezing chill passed through his struggling form. Looming over him was the twisted, wraith-like form of a broken prisoner, a poltergeist. It raised its withered arms, bent at unnatural angles.

Adris was levitated upside down off the floor, his legs now helplessly kicking the air while his straitjacketed body dangled uselessly under them. The poltergeist spread the fingers of one hand. His flailing legs were pried apart, spreading them into a narrow V.

The ghost descended between Adris’ legs, a malevolent leer on its sunken face. Long, icy fingers slipped through his pants and dug into the taut flesh of the back of his thighs. The poltergeist crawled down/up to his asscheeks then his hips.

Adris never stopped screaming for Grau, his terror only increasing as the ghost, now upside down behind him, pressed its glacial front through his robes and bonds against the skin of his back. Then one ice-fingered hand closed around his throat.

The student snorted and gasped for breath. It didn’t help when the ghost against his back and ass shoved a freezing cock up his tight, fear-clenched asshole. Adris jerked and flailed upside down, but with his arms belted in the heavy straitjacket he only furthered his resemblance to a hooked fish.

With a cruel, hollow laugh, the poltergeist pistoned up Adris’ anus, ripping his walls apart. His ice-cold cock churned his guts to a burning, pulsing pulp, and slammed into his g-spot. Each brutal battering knocked the air from his lungs and bursts of icy heat lancing from his clenched gut up up his constricted spine to the crown of his skull.

Adris’ vision blurred and own dick stiffened despite himself. The poltergeist hissed low in his ear. Ectoplasmic sperm exploded up his anal cavity.

It was more than the choked out captive could bear. Snot sputtered from his nose, tears leaking upside down from his eyes as his straitjacketed body broke into rigid quivers. Cum burst from his own dick, gushing over his belt.

Just as darkness threatened to overtake him, the poltergeist vanished. Adris fell from the air, smacking into a rude, cum-slopping awakening on the infirmary floor. The straitjacket fell limp and lifeless from his struggling limbs.

The university student crawled to his feet and ran, staggering, down the stairs. Thunk! With his vision still blurred, he collided with a second blurry form, that of his companion Grau.

Neither could meet the other’s eyes nor manage to speak a word. Nevertheless, their experiences with the ghosts of Harrowstone prison formed a wordless understanding between them. Together, they high-tailed it out of that cursed place, all noble intentions cast aside into the fields of yellow grass.


	12. Egg Sacked

As the afternoon light bled away into evening, the entire two dozen Thrunefang villagers grabbed their prisoners and their torches. Verik and the six others were restrained with their neck and wrists in portable but cumbersome wooden stocks. They were marched from the village into the jungle and out onto a cliff presenting a hundred-foot drop onto seaweed-shrouded rocks.

They made their way down in single file across ledges connected by rickety rope bridges, the villagers chanting to keep in step. At the base of the bluff were four stone monoliths, each carved with a weathered, snake-like rune. Between the spires was a three-foot-high, flat-topped pyramid. Stained channels ran from its dark altar-top into dark stone basins that let out into the sea.

The Thrunefang elder stepped forward. The monkey on her shoulder handed her a small, six-sided dice of carved bone. She cast it upon the altar top. One.

“The half-elf,” the crone croaked in Infernal.

The villagers let up a joyous shout. They seized hold of the half-elf’s limbs and unlocked their stocks. The screaming half-elf was passed over the villager’s heads to a small group who’d joined the elder and chieftain around the altar.

They forced the half-elf, shrieking and struggling onto their back. Their wrists and ankles were shackled down the sides of the altar in taut, rusted chains, forcing the sacrifice’s back bent and their bent legs spread. Then the group backed away by the tidepools, leaving the half-elf to grunt, strain, and scraped the rusted metal against the sides of the unyielding rock.

The villagers turned their heads to the sky as one. Verik followed their gaze, catching the flap of great leathery wings. A reptilian creature with muscular legs and a mane of red spikes descended from the top of the cliffs.

“Red Devil. Red Devil. Red Devil,” chanted the Thrunefangs.

The seven-foot, winged chupacabra alighted upon the altar, straddling the shrieking, squirming sacrifice. Two thick, red-striped ovipositors stiffened to a foot in length between her legs. With an ear-piercing shrill, the Red Devil dug her foreclaws into the half-elf’s shoulders and shoved both phalluses up the tight, inadequate squeeze of their asshole.

The deep railing rammed the last of the half-elf’s scream right from their lungs. Their eyes bulged in agony, the taut bow of their overstuffed body quivering and jerking on the Red Devil’s massive phalluses.

The creature crowed in triumph over the mounted sacrifice. She pumped and thrust into their over-tight anus, splitting their walls apart in preparation for her precious cargo. As her twin ovipositors pounded her prey’s spasming anal cavity open, they began to swell around the larger, rounded shapes of her eggs.

The pressure of the engorged, pistoning phalluses was too much for the half-elf’s anal shaft. Their walls seized and wracked around the Red Devil’s raping ovipositors. Their backward-balled body bounced and beat itself against the altar top, their cumbrain tongue lolling from their mouth.

The Red Devil crowed and shrieked, pushing her eggs down the full length of her ovipositors and into the sacrifice until the half-elf’s belly swelled as though pregnant itself. Pathetic, sticky jizz spurted from their prey’s lewdly erect cock.

The chupacabra squeezed the final eggs from her phalluses and pulled out from the half-elf’s asshole, breathing hard. Fortunately for her, there was a source of nourishment right here seeing as her eggs needed nothing but a nest of edible flesh.

The Red Devil roared and sunk her fangs into the half-elf’s throat. Verik watched, frozen in terror, as she sucked the blood from their body, leaving it nothing but a withered husk of flesh and bone around the eggs still swelling its belly. The cheers of the villagers faded from his hearing.

That could’ve been any of them. That could’ve been him. It still could be, once the Thrunefangs finished their fun.

There was only one solution. He had to escape, as soon as fucking possible.


	13. A New Hope

The Thrunefangs’ celebratory feast and orgy had lasted all through the night. They'd re-tied Verik and the four remaining shipwreck survivors to the wooden stakes in the muddy prison yard. Three of the captives were bound to the stakes with their wrists behind their backs.

Verik and one other, an agathion aasimar with a short coat of sleek, dark brown fur, long rabbit's ears, and a little, white-tufted tail, had been tied with their wrists in front of them for better access to the tight squeeze of their asses. The little rabbit was the last one still getting her holes fucked full of cum in the sluggish, drunken stupor of Dawn's first light.

The one horny, staggered villager in the prison pen had the rabbit-girl lifted off her weakly jerking feet by the tail, forcing her to lean into his cock's brutal railing of her anus. She gasped and whimpered at the shock of pain from each gut-churning thrust, her fingers grasping helplessly behind the stake.

With a sloppy, vicious grin, the Thrunefang closed his other hand around her slender, furry throat. The rabbit's sloe-black eyes bulged, her stupid, cumbrain anus clenching as tight as her strangled shaft around her rapist's dick. Which shunted the head of his wall-ripping cock straight into her g-spot.

Drool sputtered from the rabbit's soundlessly screaming mouth and snot from the wet, black triangle of her nose. The long bridge of her curved body and extended arms bucked uncontrollably as the villager's cock slammed spasms wracking out from her clamped anus to her curled fingers and toes and the top of her rabbit-eared skull.

At the same time, Verik's rope-burning wriggles and tugs with his teeth paid off. He slipped his wrists free of their bonds and untied said bonds from the stake to boot.

The Thrunefang's drunken groan pierced dawn's thick, heavy silence over the village. Cum burst from his throbbing dick into the mercilessly hot, tight squeeze of the rabbit-girl's slutty asshole. He watched in smirking satisfaction as his choked, bent-over bitch danced in forcibly pleasured squirms on his seed-gushing cock.

Then he, too, was choking, a thick, coarse rope pulled tight as a noose around his neck. And Verik, the mild-mannered accountant, found that he had never wanted to kill a man more. Needless to say, no tears were shed.

As soon as the villager was dead, Verik swiped the dagger from his belt and cut the aasimar's wrists free. Her knees collapsed under her with a soft groan, but he caught her around the waist before she fell to the mud. He helped her up gingerly, her soft, furry back resting a moment against his bare chest.

"Thank you," she panted, her Common spoken with one of the many accents native to the Mwangi Expanse.

"Don't thank me yet." They were far from out of danger, but they could afford a moment to catch their breath. "My name's Verik."

"I am Ryst." She straightened up, her heat pulling away from his sweat-chilled flesh. Her head barely reached his shoulder, but her ears added an extra foot to her dimensions. "Come, let us free the others."

Verik brandished the dagger once more. He was better with a crossbow and about a hundred feet between him and his target, but it would have to suffice for now. 

Swiftly and silently, he cut free their fellow survivors. Together, a new hope welling in their chests, they crept out from the muddy prison yard and into the dense green arms of the island jungle.


	14. Many Mysteries

Grau and Adris' experience at the prison had been so traumatizing that the two couldn't even look at each other at the breakfast table. They could barely remember to mutter polite unintelligibles at Endra's entrance in mourning black and offer of steaming black coffee.

“Mother. Of. Souls. You two fucked, and on the day of dear old Dad’s burial. Congratulations on tying for ‘World’s Worst Recipients of a Will.’” She took a judgmental sip from her mug before sitting.

“Miss Lomorr,” Adris sighed wearily, “that’s not what happened.”

“Then where did you two jointly disappear off to, brotherfucker?”

Grau, even wearier than the grad student, decided to end their sister’s interrogation as soon as possible for the sake of their burgeoning migraine. “Alright, you got us. We fucked. Happy?”

“No!” She did not, however, pursue that line of questioning any further, Lady Luck be praised. Instead, she reached into the deep pockets of her black housecoat and set a thin, ink-smudged newspaper on the breakfast table. “You weren’t the only ones having a bit of reprobate fun last night.”

She slid the local paper over to their side of the table. Grau and Adris leaned forward to take a look at the front page news. Some hooligan had stolen a goat off a farm, slaughtered it, ditched the body in a field but used the blood to paint a big “V” on the town’s Harrowstone Memorial statue.

Grau's eyes widened. It couldn't be a coincidence that the Harrowstone Memorial was defaced on the same night that they'd disturbed the haunted prison grounds. Maybe this was even a new ploy by the Whispering Way. Whatever the case, the further they could get from that gods-damned prison while still investigating their father's murder, the better.

They turned to Adris, bumping heads from near proximity over the paper. But as the student absently rubbed his bump, his eyes finally met Grau's. The investigation was back on.

They were far from the only ones in this provincial, Pharasma-worshipping town to come gawk at the blasphemous defacement, however. Apart from the prison itself, the twenty-five-foot-tall statue was Ravengro's most distinctive landmark. From the size of the crowd murmuring behind the hastily erected cordoning, Grau guessed every able-bodied denizen in Ravengro had turned up as they would to the weekly worship service.

Grau and Adris ducked and squeezed their way to the front of the crowd, ignoring the daggers glared into their back. The moss-covered, blood-drenched stone statue depicted the warden in uniform., Lyv Hawkran according to the placard. The Kellid frowned in thought. The name was familiar but where… 

“That was the name we saw...yesterday,” Adris whispered in their ear.

So it was related! Only, Grau had no idea who this Lyv Hawkran was or what they meant to the Whispering Way. And why the V? “Adris, I think we need to do more research.”

He gave a slow nod. “I concur.”

#*#*#*#*

After the horrors of yesterday, Ebrien came to the reckless conclusion that she might as well go for broke and return the Queen of Korvosa's missing brooch. To that end, she made her way as inconspicuously as she could to the city’s striking, impeccably-funded tourist district in the long, looming shadow of Castle Korvosa.

A magnificent achievement of architecture, the castle walls and spires soared into the sky above. The entire structure reached ever higher thanks to its ancient foundation, a Thassilonian ruin in the shape of an immense flat-topped pyramid. It was now one of the most recognizable landmarks in all of Varisia.

Ebrien approached the castle by the Great Ramp, the main entryway permitted to public petitioners. The castle guards directed her to the Public Courtyard to wait for the next court representative available to hear her case. She sat on a stone bench under the shade of a gnarled live oak that had to be as old as the castle itself. Her gaze drifted with the outlines of statues frozen in dance with the otherworldly beasts cut from the flowering hedges.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Sister Skank.”

Ebrien froze. That was one of the many names she hadn’t heard since she and Grau had dropped out of the Carsini Weapons Academy due to dwindling funds.

“Where’s your better, sexier sibling?” The soft, sultry voice belonged to the same speaker, a young woman in a helm and full-plated armor of the castle’s elite guard. She removed her helm, revealing the unforgettable face of an angel-blooded aasimar.

“S-Sana…!” Ebrien was wholly unable to modulate the squeak in her voice.

The flaxen-haired, violet-eyed, full-bodied Sana Meri had been the number-one student at the academy and the protege of Master Carsini him or themself. It was actually not all that surprising that she’d managed to graduate early and ascend to the heights of the royal guard.

“Not kidding, Slut-Sol. Where’s Grau?”

“They had to go back to Ustalav for a funeral,” she replied, her voice still high and shaky. “Look, I’m just here to return a missing brooch.”

Sana’s sparkling smile widened. “Is that so? Why don’t you follow me, then.”

She sauntered off without giving Ebrien a second to argue. The Varisian bit her tongue. It was just like that rich, sociopathic brat to play mind games this early in the morning. But if she didn’t follow, some worse prank would doubtlessly follow so long as she remained on castle grounds.

“Fuck.” Ebrien took off after Sana, jogging to catch up.

The arrogant aasimar never once looked back. She led the Varisian through tight, narrow corridors on a twisting path impossible to remember. They let out into a pristine but starkly barren chamber, a spacious hall with a vaulted ceiling, stained glass depictions of monarchs past, and crimson drapes framing the soldered windows. As immense as the room’s fireplace was, never its heat nor light was enough to fully permeate the cavernous chamber.

A Chelish woman, her Taldan roots apparent in the vibrant red blaze of her hair, sat upon the room’s crimson-draped throne. It was hard to tell if she even perceived their presences, her bright green eyes only partially open as she threw back her head in the throes of passion.

Queen Ileosa nee Arvanxi was clad in nothing but a diaphanous robe of deepest blue that concealed neither her luscious curves nor the delicate beads of her nipples. A young, blue-skinned samsaran wearing only the feathered tail of the thick, vibrating plug up his ass knelt between her upraised legs, her bare feet resting on either arm of the throne. He was quite expertly eating out her cunt, his tongue prodding a river of slick from her reddened pussy lips.

The queen’s toes curled. Her fingers knotted in his deepest blue curls, a lewd moan slipping out from her parting lips. She held the twink’s head down into her spasming pussy, refusing to let him up an inch until she’d cum again and again and again on his masterful tongue.

With a final, exultant scream, her rigidly quivering body fell back against the throne, gleaming with sweat. The samsaran rose from between her legs, taking his leave with a graceful bow despite the enchanted dildo still stroking and throbbing a foot deep in his clenching anus. He gave Sana and Ebrien a wink on his way out...or perhaps that was a twitch in his rapidly dissolving control.

Sana, wholly unphased, hooked her arm through Ebrien’s and pulled her out before the softly panting queen. Both former schoolmates bowed, but only the aasimar came up grinning.

“This is Ebrien Sol, Your Majesty. She’s a fellow graduate of Carsini Academy come to return a missing brooch.”

The bold-faced lie to Korvosa’s highest authority, and it had to have been a lie rather than an innocent slip of the tongue, so shocked Ebrien that she could only wordlessly hold out the brooch. It burned like a live flame in her hand. She would never have admitted it, but she was relieved when Sana snatched it up and handed it over to the queen on one knee.

“This brooch...was stolen from me some time ago,” said Queen Ileosa, her voice steadying with each word. “I hadn’t expected to see it again, truth be told. You’ve done my heart a service in returning it to me, and you shall be rewarded.”

“Your Majesty, if I may, Ebrien’s family has fallen on hard times, but her skill with the blade remains true. Might I humbly suggest that she join the new field operations agents?”

Ebrien stared at Sana, mouth agape. What the fuck was going on here?

“That’s an excellent idea, Sana. Field Marshal Kroft is sorely in need of more elite agents. Ebrien, I shall send word ahead to let them know you’re on the way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m in need of...refreshment.”

With her head spinning faster than ever, the impoverished Varisian found herself stepping out of the castle throne room from her personal audience with the queen on her way to a new employment on the arm of one of the worst bullies at Carsini Academy. She did the only thing she could do in her daze and murmured thanks to Desna, the Great Dreamer. She could really have used some refreshment herself.


	15. New Mission, New Crew

The base of the field marshal’s operations was Citadel Volnek in the city’s Midland overlooking Jeggare Harbor. With the sudden death of King Eodred II having plunged Korvosa into chaos, the citadel was currently operating on a skeleton crew. Field Marshal Kroft had dispatched the majority of the guards and special agents throughout the city simply to keep what order they could.

Two nervous guards stood at the entrance to the Yard. They recognized Sana at once, however, and stepped up at once to open the doors to the central keep. Slipping her arm through Ebrien’s, she gave them a serene nod and smile. Her former schoolmate, still in a daze, could do nothing but keep pace with the aasimar.

Behind the final door was a distinctly low-standing desk. A ruddy, brown-skinned dwarf with dark circles around their eyes and a shock of unwashed black hair standing erect on their head, rose from behind the desk. They sighed deeply as they spoke.

“Good. You’re here. What’s your name again?”

“Ebrien Sol,” answered Sana. She patted the Varisian’s arm, offering a weirdly friendly wink. “Have at it, Sister Skank.”

Ebrien watched the aasimar go, shaking her head in wordless shock. Kroft snapped their fingers.

“Head out of her ass, Sol. We’ve got urgent shit on our hands. The king’s autopsy came back. He was murdered, surprise surprise. Poison. Luckily, we’ve got a likely suspect.

“Just before his death, Eodred was getting a new portrait painted. The painter was a young, hot looker from Cheliax, a kid named Inisar. Pale skin, black hair, but real distinct metallic gold eyes, likely some devilry in the blood.

“Their residence is listed as a flat in the Shingles, 42 Moon Street. You get ‘em, you bring ‘em back, preferably alive. Any questions?”

“I-how much is this bounty?”

“This ain’t a bounty, kid. The queen set you up as one of my elite field operatives. It’s a salaried position, a thousand a month with potential bonuses for jobs well done. If that’s your way of asking for the money up front, forget about it. Anything else?”

“Wow. Wow, okay. What if Inisar isn’t home?”

“Torag’s warhammer, track them the FUCK down! They’re our lead suspect in the city-state’s fucking regicide.”

“Right, right, I’ll get right on it, Boss.”

Kroft gave her another sigh and a weary shake of their head. “Shut the door on your way out.”

Ebrien got right on it.

#*#*#*#*

Verik, Ryst, and the three other shipwrecked passengers stopped only when they stumbled upon a freshwater stream. They drank deeply, plunging their heads into the water. Verik took a watch, allowing the others to bathe.

Beside the rabbit-formed, Mwangi aasimar, they were in the company of a Chelish tiefling, a Tian kitsune, and a Vudrani vishkanya. The tiefling’s name was Gelik, a rust-skinned youth with thick black horns in stark contrast to a mop of brown hair and large brown eyes.

The kitsune went by name of Hiro. The crown of his red-furred head stood an inch shorter than Verik’s, but his black-tipped ears stood an inch taller. Black socks stretched from the tips of his clawed paws to his knees and elbows. His amber eyes glimmered with a crafty, animal intelligence.

The snake-tongued vishkanya called themself Ashneva. Minute scales of dark, shimmering brown covered their voluptuous form so that they gleamed softly under even the faintest light. Their placid, solid white eyes were as completely unreadable as any serpent’s.

Verik gave all four as much privacy as he could while staying alert for pursuing villagers. Now that they had a source of fresh water, what they needed was shelter, a place to hide and rest while they figured a way off this island.

The stone lighthouse back at the village was tall and large enough to be functional, but to catch a passing ship’s notice, they would need to keep it lit for a significant length of time. Which meant something would have to be done about the Thrunefangs. 

Verik’s hand slipped idly to the single dagger he’d relieved them of. Yeah, no, that wasn’t gonna to cut it.

A twig snapped in the jungle. Verik, Ryst, Hiro, and Ashneva snapped to attention. Gelik continued to splash until the kitsune swatted them with his tail. Time to run.

They stayed close to the stream but within the concealing foliage of the trees. Their path brought them to a new range of cliffs overlooking the sea. There in the crags was a high, narrow mouth just above the crashing tide.

The four climbed down as fast as they could into the damp caverns. At first glance, these seemed to be no more than a network of sea caves, but here and there the mineral deposits on the walls and ceilings failed to obscure ancient carvings. 

A shallow layer of brackish water covered the floor. Numerous small mounds of delicate crystals emerged from its gently rippling surface. Everyone’s immediate attention, however, was drawn to the mound of ancient bones caked with thick mineral deposits against the wall.

The blunted, rusted weapons in the pile were little better than nothing. Verik kept his dagger but accepted a metal torch, its head preserved by pitch. When no one followed them into the cavern, Verik and Ashneva lit their torches.

“We should split up and search the nearby tunnels for any immediate threats,” said the ex-accountant.

“I’ll go with you,” said Ryst.

“Hiro, Gelik, with me,” said the vishkanya, their voice carrying the slightest hiss.

Verik and the idyllkin made their way through their tunnel to a cavern whose ceiling was a forest of slow-dripping stalactites. The mineral run-off traced crystal paths down walls carved with serpentine curves or plinked straight into the floor’s pool of dark, gently rippling water.

The two glanced around. With all seemingly clear, Verik crouched down to dip a finger in the water to test whether it was salt or fresh. As his finger broke the pool’s black surface, a cacophony of ear-splitting shrieks ripped through the cavern.

Verik and Ryst doubled over in deafened agony, hands clamped over their ringing ears. Down from the stalactites dropped two hulking masses of eyes, mouths, and formless flesh staring in all directions. The gibbering mouthers’ countless maws ceaselessly shrieked their brain-splintering cries.

The mouthers fell atop them, sucking the human and the rabbit into either off their engulfing masses. Verik thrashed and slashed and kicked, but the monster's body held him like tar, binding his arms to his sides, his legs together, and crushing him into a folded ball of naked flesh. Only his head and screaming mouth protruded.

Thick, heavy ooze full of the hard rounds of the mouther's eyeballs forced and squeezed its way up his anus. The squirming ball of Verik’s flesh was stuffed full of the monster’s gluey sludge, his anal walls torn apart and spasming around the giant, bead-like eyes. Then some horrid, inner mouth sucked down around his cock.

Verik’s eyes bulged, saliva sputtering from his mouth. Engulfed by the mouther, he was completely helpless as its toothless maw wrapped tighter than a hot fist around his dick, squeezing and sucking him in until his balls wedged up its mouth like a final knotting lock and gag.

He shuddered from the neck up, the monster’s sludgey flesh binding and containing the convulsions wracking through his stuffed, balled up body. With a pathetic cry, his cum gushed from his engulfed dick and into the monster’s enveloping mass. Once the mouther had wrung him for every last drop, its gluey hold began to loosen.

With agonizing slowness, its hard, thick eyeballs were pulled from Verik’s spasming anus one by one. The reverse penetration of his anus sent his spine clenching, back arching. Shamefully pleasured moans escaped his gasping lips.

The mouther finally released him on his back, sapped of all strength and trembling like a newborn foal on the cavern floor. It and its hunting partner crawled off like massive slugs down a new branch of tunnel.

Verik turned his head, his eyes finally meeting Ryst’s in the light of his dropped torch. She had been left on her belly and breathing as hard as himself. He did his best to ignore the slight, erratic twitch still ahold of her little, tufted tail.

“Take ten before we find the others?” he rasped.

“Y-yes.”


End file.
